You're going to drink. Do it well.

January 15, 2013

I've been doing cocktails for the Key West Literary Seminar for the past couple years and this time around I, in an outrageously audacious move, decided to create a series of cocktails for the event's nightly parties inspired by the works of Graham Greene. Travel writer & essayist Pico Iyer's meditation on his internal relationship with Greene through his work, "The Man Inside My Head", has been an important touchtstone at this year's Seminar, the theme of which is "Writers On Writers". Iyer himself attended and spoke eloquently about the book and Greene.

It had been when I'd found out the Iyer would be attending that the idea first took hold, as I'm a huge Greene fan myself. Knowing this project would be a big undertaking I recruited Sean Hoard of Teardop Lounge in Portland, Oregon to develop Greene-tails with me, and we've been corresponding and tweaking recipes and concepts for months. Hoard joined me here in Key West this week where we've been serving cocktails for the 300 plus authors and serious readers nightly all week.

Greene was a commited drinker, and drinking is a common activity in his books, as is travel, and many are set in exotic locations, so finding national spirits or local culinary cues to look to for inspiration in his work wasn't hard. And some characters suggest drinks quite easily in your imagination. The iconoclastic eccentric grandmother-aged Augusta in "Travels with my Aunt" powers through quite a lot of champagne on trains and at various bars around Europe, so I'd thought of a champagne cocktail with a little punch as an homage to her libertine spirit, something a bit saucy. When I discovered that KWLS Lighting Director Jolly Benson had a calamondin tree in his front yard, and more significatnly that his chef mother Sarah had made an amazing marmalade with it, it all sort of wrote itself from there. The citrus' bitter-but-invigorating rind and pith was definitely saucy, and its brilliant orange actually matches Maggie Smith's flame red hair in George Cukor's film adaptation quite closely. (Smith, below, in a still from the film, looking her actual age for a flashback. Her Aunt Augusta is interesting, but Katherine Hepburn, who was originally slated to do the part and was closer to the character's age, and temperment, may have been a better choice. Still, Smith does look fantastic here.)

I mixed the marmalade with Beefeater 24, selected for its elegant, astringent notes culled from its grapefruit and Chinese green and Japanese Sencha tea botanicals, a little honey syrup (1:1) and lemon, shook it all up vigorously & strained into a flute, topped it with champagne, expressing a lemon twist over the top and discarding. I used about 1 oz of the stock in the early versions at the opening night party, but as the evening went on I thought that more of the gin and citrus stock would make everyone ever merrier and I started pouring around 1.5-1.75 oz. Even later I began scopping a small bit if the marmalade into the flute before building the drink, with the benefits of that flash of orange at the bottom of the transclucent, almost mother of pearl colored finished drink, as well as a little hit of the bite-y marmalade.

AUNT AUGUSTA

STOCK:

1 part Beefeater 24

1/2 part calamondin marmalade

1/2 part lemon juice

1/4 part honey syrup (1:1)

1/8 part Aperol

Combine all elements, stir extremely well. Shake to order and pour into a flute (to taste), top up with sparkling wine. But not before adding a dollop of the calamondin marmalade into the bottom of the flute. Lemon zest and discard.

SARAH BENSON'S CALAMONDIN MARMALADE

Wash, cut in half, seed, and purée In a food processor enough calamondins to measure 2 cups - The skin should be in 1/4 inch pieces1 cup orange juice3 cups sugarIn a stainless steel pan bring the juice and Calomondin purée to a boil. Stir in the sugar. Cook the mixture over a medium-high heat at a steady boil for 15 minutes stirring several times.

Spoon the marmalade into clean jars, let it cool and keep refrigerated.

Fantastic stuff, integral for our Aunt Augusta but also brilliant on some toast.

More cocktails to come this week from me and Mr. Hoard, including The Third Man, The Power & The Glory, The Hotel Continental, The Whisky Priest, The Pennyfeather, The End of the Affair & The Loud American.

December 21, 2011

This louche riff on a French 75 comes from DJ and Beefeater and Plymouth's man about town Nick Van Tiel. It's a bit flash with the Be24 and the P.J., but it is the holidays after all, and one ought to treat one's guests to something special. And oneself. The honey syrup is simply 3 parts honey to one part water--Nick pours the honey in a mixing tin, adds the water and shakes vigorously---cold water is fine when you shake honey, it blends up nicely, something I didn't know. The Angostura pulls it back from the cusp of too-sweet, or too-tart. If you make several at once, which is only natural with champagne cocktails, this is actually a rather simple recipe--as simple as Nick's crisp handwriting on the page of my notebook. I could drink these until New Year's Eve.

April 14, 2011

We've noted the current female affection for sabrage amongst the bartending world before. And we're quite fond of the micro trend. There's something about a woman wielding a long knife, sabre or sword to open a bottle of champagne that's rather cinematic, and a little mesmerizing. Witnesses tend to fall mute when it's happening, charmed by the sight.

Below, 3 videos that break down how and why this startling bottle opening technique works, and how to do it, and with verve. First up is definitely Sven Almenning from Eau de Vie, who, while cleary not female, does refer to the viewer as "kittens." Next are 2 videos of Lauren Kincheloe of Bar Marmont, and a frequent Embury collaborator. In the first clip she explains to a slightly dumbstruck young friend how the science works, and in the second she demonstrates. In a hot tub, in a bikini. Just in case you weren't paying attention already. [Second 2 videos seem to not be showing up on some browsers due to some glitch, try reloading a couple times but if that doesn't work check them out on YouTube. Kincheloe 1, Kincheloe 2.]

July 21, 2010

The trans-hemispheric quest to create a rhubarb bellini came to fruition on a recent afternoon in Martha's Vineyard, with a crystal blue sky and brilliant sunlight and an wedding by the sea. Discussions about and experimentation with the mythical bellini had taken place in Los Angeles and Brooklyn, then continued in Melbourne, carried on through Sydney, were picked up again back to New York and ultimately crescendoed on Chappaquidick. The version that coalesced that day was a bit different from what I'd imagined it would be a week prior, when I was across the international date line on the other side of the equator. Some brilliant scheming in Australia went a bit awry and never quite came to fruition in time for the wedding--as Joni Mitchell might say, 'things conspired.' But to paraphrase Julia Childs: you'll never be a great chef if you always follow the recipe. In the end working with available elements yielded charming bellinis that refreshed wedding guests parched from the intense rays of the sun with a a welcome sweetness. (The heat and the vivid sun were elements that we may have not considered on that rainy evening in autumnal Melbourne.) Below is the recipe I landed on that afternoon, and in the second half of the post some of the twists and turns that led to this iteration, for those who are interested in such cocktail questing. And while all the other variations certainly had their virtues, this one that came to be on the day that my longtime friends were getting married seems to have been exactly what was supposed to have been all along.

Drop the demerarra cube into a tall flute, douse with all the above
bitters. Add orange and lemon juice and fill-carefully, as it will be
extra bubbly when it comes into contact with the sugar and the
citrus-with champagne. Add a substantial orange twist, and one final
dash of Fee Bros. Rhubarb Bitters on top for the nose.

April 30, 2010

The pressure was one to come up with a well-rounded, handsome riff on the work-in-progress cucumber & champagne cocktail, as some friends who are getting married at the Metropolitan Club in May were stopping by to talk about ideas for their signature cocktail. I served up a couple new iterations that I'd come up with, and the first one we tasted was the winner. It does require sourcing fresh cucumber juice (which I just get at a juice bar near my apartment), Bottle Green Elderflower Cordial and Regan's Orange Bitters No. 6, which you should have already. Both cordial and bitters are available at Kalustyan's, and they do shipping. But once you've got all that it's rather easy to make, fresh and Spring-y, a bit flash, which if fun at a fancy wedding, and quite, quite irresistible.

Build
the above in a flute, but start with the orange zest garnish in the empty glass--essentially it's a long, very narrow strip of orange
zest that snakes around the inside of the glass about 3 times--it's
an exaggerated Horse's Neck twist. Top off with champagne
leaving room for about 1/2 Tablespoon of cucumber juice with foam.
Top with generous dash of Regan's Orange Bitters No. 6. (Again, Kalustyan's)

April 23, 2009

After brunch with a couple rounds of mimosas, and Bottle Number One of decent commercial Chateau St. Michele champagne back home between four of us, Bottle Number Two of the same was looking only moderately exciting. We were all gathered on the front porch of Chris and Erin of Bad Boy Burrito, the late afternoon sun was low and hot and we were all a little dopey. Erin walked inside and returned with a large slice of organic pink grapefruit which she squeezed directly into her almost-full flute. We tried and asked for the same treatment: The French Poodle wipes away the thick coat that decent mimosas and just-okay champagne can leave in your mouth and in your head, and it clears the palette with grapefruit's astringent pop. The complex sweet-and-sourness of the tangy fresh fruit compensates for the merely acceptable sugar of the champagne, and makes drinking it a pleasure again, as well almost feeling like it's good for you. The name's a riff on The Salty Dog, and it's perfect for helping extend a lazy Sunday afternoon in the sub-tropic heat and light. J.R.

THE FRENCH POODLE

Champagne, most any qualityFresh organic Grapefruit.

Squeeze grapefruit into flute glass of very chilled champagne. Chunks of fruit are good..

April 08, 2009

As we approach the Kentucky Derby on May 2nd, we'll be talking about bourbon here at Embury. One of my favorite drinks for daytime, and a wonderful one to turn someone onto is The Seelbach. If you've never heard of it it could sound sketchy--a dining companion at Union Square Cafe on a recent Saturday afternoon was extremely dubious at the thought of bourbon and champagne together, but he smiled when he tasted it.

Lauren Clark of Drink Boston offers this slight, very sensible variation on the Regans' recipe: I prefer to stir the liquor and bitters lightly over ice and
then strain them into the Champagne flute before adding the Champagne.
It makes a pleasantly chilled drink that is not so cold or watered down
that it dulls the spirits’ character.

One's choice of bourbon is always key, of course, but The Seelbach is quite versatile and can be adapted to what's on hand. I'm always a fan of the delicate Basil Hayden but the malty honey of Makers Mark more than compensates for a less than glorious champagne, and knocks a Seelbach out of the park every time. Peychaude's bitters are great to mix with Angostura, but either will do. On a recent Saturday afternoon at Union Square Cafe the bartender doubled up the Angostura due to lack of Peychaudes-to no ill effect. fact, I'd consider the Seelbach to be marvellously flexible-just stick to bourbon, bitters and something bubbly on top and a litle something sweet and you'll acheive the same response. The one in this photograph was sourced over a long day in Key West, pulling Pechaudes from friends at the Island House, Angostura from
Bad Boy Burrito, Martini & Rossi Proseco from Fausto's and Evan Williams Bourbon from my dad's liquor cabinet. An Exacto knife in the toolshed (same toolshed I'd made so many other drinks in) proved to work fine to cut twists, in this case lemon twists-heresy to some as orange is called for, but the lemon added a nice kick. When my dad looked a little wary even after he'd taken a sip, I remembered this was missing something sweet. With no Cointreau or simple syrup around Ijust spooned in some raw sugar, stirred it up and handed it back to him. That got the smile.